A few people set off for the basement. Zhao Yi took the Ghost Security Guard's poop-stirring stick from Wen Long's hand, waving it around as if he were a great general.

The two people beside him kept their distance, afraid that something strange might splatter onto them.

Moreover, Wen Long was frowning.

"That old lady said the manager of the underground warehouse has a terrible temper. Are we being too reckless by barging in like this...?"